


pb&h

by nightbirdrises



Series: Sinking 'verse [16]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm going to stop."</p>
            </blockquote>





	pb&h

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this segment: discussion of past minor character death, alcohol
> 
> You can read Sinking in chronological order using [this page](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/sinking), or you can read it in the order of events as I wrote them [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/tagged/v%3A+sinking/chrono).

His hand was on the doorknob when a voice stopped him.

"Blaine."

Blaine turned around with a slight frown to see his mother standing a few feet away and wringing her hands nervously. “Mom?”

"Are you seeing that boy again?" She sounded disapproving, which honestly didn’t surprise Blaine. Still, it frustrated him that people always looked at Kurt (and everyone else, for that matter) and made snap judgments. Then again, he’d done the same thing at first. He sighed and put his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket with a small, tight shrug and nod.

"His name is Kurt," he added.

"Kurt, right." A moment of silence, then, "Is he your boyfriend?"

Well, shit.

"Uh… Yeah, I guess he is." Blaine searched his mother’s expression for some kind of visible reaction but she remained passive for an endless few seconds, her hands still moving. He reached back to turn the doorknob, unsure whether or not he was free to leave. Neither of his parents were spectacular at communication, but he could usually figure out what they wanted. Now, he had no clue. "Can I…" Blaine trailed off, gesturing towards the now half-open door.

"Yes, go ahead, I’m sorry," his mom said, shaking her head. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Sure."

"Be safe, okay? I’m not saying Kurt is dangerous," she added when Blaine opened his mouth. "I’m saying he’s a bit… visible. I don’t want either of you attracting unwanted attention, not again." And then it all made sense; she’d never quite been the same since Sadie Hawkins and everything that surrounded that incident. He still didn’t quite agree, but he understood.

"So you’re okay with us?" Blaine asked carefully, wanting to be sure.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said with a small smile. "I just worry. Especially since he doesn’t seem like your type."

"Kurt is one of the most amazing and beautiful people I’ve ever met," Blaine assured her with as much confidence as he could muster — it was weird, really, talking about this with his mom. But it had to be said. "If I have a type, that’s it."

She beamed and Blaine couldn’t help but grin back, suddenly feeling light as a feather. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

"Thank you," he said with complete sincerity before heading out the door, keys jangling merrily in hand.

He wondered, briefly, why they don’t spend much time together outside of their respective bedrooms and houses. It could be that the weather this December was some of the coldest he had ever experienced, but there were other places to go (besides Scandals, of course).

Blaine thought about it all the way to Kurt’s house and as he walked up to the door. As a result, he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until a clump of freezing snow collided with the back of his neck; he yelped, spinning around in a frenzied attempt to find his attacker while at the same time reaching back to brush the snow away before it could slip underneath his jacket and completely soak his shirt.

Just as he saw Finn disappear around the corner of the house, someone tapped his shoulder from behind. Blaine turned and got a glimpse of amused, familiar blue-grey eyes before Kurt’s lips found his, pressing gently.

"Gotcha," Kurt hummed quietly, smirking as he pulled back by mere centimeters. Too close to sign or attempt to speak, Blaine settled for tugging Kurt back in by the leather jacket he wore on colder days, kissing him deeper and flicking his tongue against Kurt’s piercing.

It took some time for them to separate, during which Blaine was sure he heard Finn clear his throat multiple times before he finally gave up and went inside, leaving the two of them barely swaying in each other’s arms in the snow. Eventually, it occurred to Blaine that the back of his neck, along with his fingers, was cold, so he reluctantly backed off in order to tug Kurt inside by the hand.

 **Nice to see you boys** , Burt signed passively as they slipped into the living room, where he was watching a basketball game. Blaine felt a little burst of pride at having recognized and translated the signs.

Kurt then let go of his hand and signed something that Blaine didn’t fully understand, and he turned to him confusedly. “I said we’re going to the kitchen,” Kurt said quietly.

 **We are?**  Blaine asked, but Kurt just grabbed his hand again and started to pull him in the right direction without another word.

"Out," Kurt said to Finn, who was in the kitchen when they arrived.

 **I’m eating** , Finn signed, his mouth full as he followed up with “Blaine, help me out.”

"Sorry," Blaine said with a shrug. "I’m as clueless as you are."

"Fine," Finn conceded, signing it as well. Then he added something else that Blaine missed which made Kurt stick his tongue out at him as he left.

Kurt hummed, seemingly to himself (could you do such a thing if you couldn’t hear it?), and headed for a cupboard. He pulled out — to no surprise of Blaine’s — a small jar of honey, as well as a loaf of bread and two plates. “I need to introduce you to the joys of peanut butter and honey sandwiches,” he said, grabbing the peanut butter for good measure. All the ingredients he dropped onto the countertop nearest Blaine.

Blaine didn’t question it; he made his own sandwich in silence next to Kurt, who was acting strange. They ate (Blaine admitted with extremely novice signing that the combination was delicious, to Kurt’s delight) and ended up sitting on the kitchen floor, backs against the lower cupboards and sides against each other’s, Kurt’s right leg crossed over the top of Blaine’s left.

Taking out his dry-erase board for the first time since arriving, Blaine wrote,  _Any reason why we’re sitting on your kitchen floor after eating some impromptu (but amazing) sandwiches?_

"I—I, um." Kurt struggled for a moment, then took out his own board from the bag he wore on his shoulder nearly all the time.  _It was a distraction._

_From what?_

"What do you think?" Kurt said harshly, his voice breaking into a low register.  _This quitting shit is harder than I thought_ , he added in writing. Blaine frowned, frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to help the withdrawal symptoms.

 _They say the symptoms only last a few weeks_ , he wrote, trying to reassure him.  _If it’s true, you’re almost there._

_Please let’s not talk about it, it’s hard enough not to beg Q for a pack without thinking about all this. Ask me a question, anything_

Blaine tapped his marker against his lips, concentrating even as he noticed Kurt scrubbing at his board with more vigor than usual long after he’d erased the last of the marks. It worried him, so he shifted into Kurt’s side a bit more to catch his attention as he wrote,  _Why don’t you drink alcohol?_

Kurt stiffened, which was definitely not the reaction Blaine wanted.

"I’m sorry," he said lamely, then swore to himself and wrote the same on the board where Kurt could actually see it, adding,  _Nevermind, that was a stupid question, forget it_

 _No_ , Kurt wrote hastily.  _I don’t like the subject but I need a distraction and you should know this anyway._

Blaine took a deep breath and nodded.

 _It’s simple_ , Kurt started, pausing between words.  _I was eight when some fucking idiot thought it was a good idea to drive drunk. My mom was on her way to my piano recital and they crossed paths. She was killed instantly._

Blaine gaped for a few moments, completely speechless (wordless? whatever). He was saved the trouble of responding right away when Kurt wiped off his board and continued:

_I’m glad she didn’t suffer and all that shit but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Now, just the thought of tasting alcohol makes me feel sick because whether I’m being responsible or not I never, ever want to do to someone else what that asshole did to my family. And of course there was the guy that took my virginity without ever bothering to learn my name, not that he’d have been able to remember it._

_Does it bother you when I drink? Should I stop?_  He didn’t want to say “I’m sorry,” because he knew Kurt wouldn’t accept that. Besides, Blaine wanted to know — he didn’t want to inadvertently bring back any bad memories. He’d been tipsy around Kurt before, of course, but now that he knew…

 _I don’t control you_ , Kurt wrote.  _It’s not my favorite thing to watch, but as long as I’m around to make sure nothing bad happens, I’m fine with it._

 _I’m going to stop._  Blaine turned his head slightly to see Kurt staring across at his board with a reluctant half-smile.  _If you can stop smoking, I can stop drinking._

 _You’re not an alcoholic_ , Kurt wrote with a roll of his eyes towards Blaine.

 _I don’t care, from now on I’m alcohol-free except for one glass of wine or champagne on special occasions._  He meant it, truly and completely, and he hoped that it came through even in writing. Based on the way Kurt was now openly smiling, it did.

_Like what?_

It was lucky, really, that Blaine was writing and not speaking because he had time to think before he could blurt out “our wedding” or something equally stupid and embarrassing.  _New Year’s, maybe?_

Kurt nodded, the melancholy of his eyes fading as the subject changed.  _Speaking of New Year’s…_

_… yes?_

_Come over here for the night?_

_I would love to. Christmas?_

_Whoa there, Slick._

_Hey! I just want to spend as much time as possible with my boyfriend over break._  Kurt chuckled, shaking his head.

_Of course. Unrelated: my ass really fucking hurts from sitting on tile._

It only took that sentence for Blaine to realize that he was feeling rather uncomfortable as well. A smile crept onto his face and Kurt stared at him, obviously confused.

 _You know what would feel better?_  he asked, as nonchalant as he could be through the action of writing.

"What?" Kurt said warily, though the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes, and the way he started to pack away his dry-erase board told Blaine that he already knew.

_A bed. Your bed. You fucking me on your bed._

"You do realize my entire family is scattered around the house, right?"

_Has that ever stopped us before?_

"…Touché."

No more words were needed as they made their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Kurt pressing Blaine into one or two walls as they went (once out of earshot of Burt, of course). They never really needed words, actually. Enough was the rise and fall of their chests, the slick slide of skin, and especially the way Blaine couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from Kurt’s.

If he could look at Kurt every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He hoped he’d be given that very opportunity someday.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until he was almost out the door for school the next day that Blaine realized he’d left his letter jacket at Kurt’s. Figuring he could just pick it up later, he left without a jacket at all — a mistake, really, since he was shivering as he got into his car. But he made it to school all the same and stopped at his locker to rub his hands in an attempt to warm them.

"Morning, stranger," Kurt’s voice called quietly, and Blaine barely had time to spin around and see Kurt winking at him as he passed. Kurt, wearing his letter jacket for everyone to see. It looked…  _really_  good, despite the way the Titans red sort of clashed with the pink streaks in Kurt’s hair.

It looked good because Kurt (his boyfriend!) was wearing _his_  jacket without an ounce of shame or apology. Not to mention it was really fucking hot.

Blaine grinned each time he saw Kurt in the hall, only a little nervous about the reactions such a thing could instigate, but Finn’s promise held true — no one tried to hurt him or, as far as he knew, Kurt.

Sure, people were probably talking behind their backs, but Blaine couldn’t find it in him to care. He cared about Kurt, and about them, and that was all he needed to get by.

And if he walked away from Kurt’s house later that afternoon with a leather jacket smuggled into his shoulder bag, well, it was just fair. The way Kurt’s jaw dropped the next morning (and the subsequent locked-classroom makeout during lunch) made the effort completely worth it.


End file.
